


Dog of the Military

by orphan_account



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: BDSM, Blindfolded, D/s, Gag, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Submissive Edward, ropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-24 18:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4930906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward is a firecracker. A Lieutenant Colonel. A State Alchemist. He is, by all accounts, powerful and uncontrollable - but Roy can get him on his knees without saying a word. [just a butt-load of smut]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog of the Military

**Author's Note:**

> This did not start out as porn. And then it was porn. And I got rid of the storyline part. So that it was just. Porn.  
> (My friend Ada requested boot-licking Ed and so I just lumped it in there. Hope you enjoy it, Ada!)

Edward had been waiting for what seemed like hours. He had never been so teased before, had never been left bereft for so long - he couldn't even touch himself. His hands were pinned to his sides, firmly tied down by the thick rope Roy had used on him, which brushed over his nipples and rubbed harshly at the sensitive skin of his chest. It snaked around his arms, up like a collar around his neck and then down to his ankles, bending him backwards and tying him into place on his knees.

He'd been knelt like that, gagged and blindfolded, besides Roy’s desk for too long. His knees were numb, his arms tingled, and he had to focus very hard to breathe. It grew harder when Roy would pause in his work and stand up to get something - Edward would hope, daringly, that he was finally going to be paid attention to. He'd straighten up, almost panting, and incline his head in Roy’s direction... but Roy would walk past him and instead fetch himself a cup of tea or a biscuit or a new pen, and Edward would be left there, alone and untouched and driven near-insane by the strength of his need. What made it worse was that sometimes, as he thought, Roy would reach out and absently stroke Edward's hair and caress his cheeks and Edward would shiver and press up against that hand like a fucking dog, and he was so humiliated, so degraded, and the pain of the ropes, the pain of his withheld orgasm, was so sweet...

Shifting on his knees, Edward tried to swallow around the gag; it was an impossible feat. Spit was collecting around the corners of his mouth and he struggled against his bonds, beginning to feel immensely frustrated and unfairly treated,  _resentful_ , but then Roy sighed and there were several clicks (a tell-tale sign that Roy was stretching, which usually signalled he was coming near the end of his work) before Roy’s hand fell onto Ed's head and his fingers wound carelessly into Edward's hair. No longer was Edward feeling resentful; indeed, his breath fluttered peacefully out of him and he bowed his head into the touch, the carpet burning at his knees as he shuffled a few inches towards Roy.

"You're so good," murmured Roy. Edward imagined he was smiling fondly and his dick  _ached_ at the image. "So well-behaved..."

Edward nodded hesitantly, wishing Roy’s hand would move downwards, would soothe the skin that was bunt by rope, would remove the blindfold so Edward could stare at Roy's fucking impeccably handsome face. He wanted to whine (how degrading, he knew - but oh god, he wanted to) and beg and roll over and show his belly ( _god_ , what even was he?) but he could not, would not, and instead he stretched up, ignoring the pain, the creak of the ropes, the strain of his legs as his ankles were  _pulled_ upwards, and shoved his gagged mouth into Roy’s hand.

"What's this?" asked Roy. "Do you want me to remove it?”

Edward tried to swallow, failed again, and nodded.

Roy was fondling with the leather straps of the gag. "Well," he said, "you have been very good... And I know you would like some water, wouldn’t you?"

Oh, Ed  _would_ , he hadn't had a drink in so long...

"All right," said Roy, “I’ll remove it but only if you behave. If you disobey at all then this-“ Roy tugged sharply on the strap of the gag, eliciting a muffled gasp of pain from Ed, “-will be put back on faster than you can plead otherwise. Do you understand?"

Edward wished he could speak, wished the rope wasn’t pressing so harshly into his neck when he stretched up into Roy’s hands, wished he could breathe more easily. But he had faced harder things, worse things, and he determinedly did not reply.

Roy gave the ball gag another tug. “ _Do you understand_ , Fullmetal?”

There was no fight this time: Edward wanted the gag gone, and did not hesitate in nodding that _yes,_ he understood (understanding the order didn’t mean he had to obey it, he thought with brattish glee).

Not a moment later was Roy mercifully removing the gag. It stung at first, and the corners of Edward's mouth were so sensitive that he gasped and prodded at them with his tongue. His whole face ached and his mouth felt like it was pulled too wide, made red and swollen. Gently he moved his jaw around, bit down, coughed and swallowed. He probably looked like a complete fucking mess.

But Roy seemed very happy: his fingers were there, carefully pressing at Edward's cheeks and mouth and tenderly smoothing out the muscles. He was helping Edward to relax, gently guiding him into what was probably a false sense of security, and Ed went all too willingly.

"Good," Roy said softly when Edward began to relax. "That's better. Very nice."

A shiver racked Edward's body and his lips parted. For a moment, he wondered whether he had made a horrible mistake: praise was his weakness, and Roy doled it out so sweetly that he would do  _anything_  to receive some more.

"Would you like a drink?" Roy asked.

Edward nodded, turning his face up to where he thought Roy was. "My hands..." he muttered.

Roy chuckled softly and it rolled down Edward's spine. "You don't need them," he said, and then there was the clink of a glass as Roy picked it up and  _oh god_ , he was going to press the glass to Ed's lips and make him drink and-

The glass was there, cold and steady, water just lapping at Edward's swollen lips and he eagerly pressed forward, suddenly dying of thirst. Roy did not tilt the glass immediately as if to let Edward know who was in charge - fucking  _bastard_ , Edward thought - but then thankfully the water came, wonderfully cool and soft in Edward's dry mouth. He gulped it down greedily, pressing forward, barely pausing for breath although little whimpers slipped accidentally out.  _God_ , it was so good to drink... Roy was such a bastard but he was being so good to Edward and- _  
_

No. He took that back. The water was suddenly coming too heavily, too much all at once - Edward could not swallow it all, was spluttering as he tried to drink, his mouth forming odd shapes as he tried to gulp down  _more_ but then it was leaking down his chin, dripping, splashing to his chest. He shivered, struck by the sudden cold against his hot skin, and tried to pull back but Roy kept pressing it forward into Ed's mouth and it just kept coming, and he kept drinking, except it got to a point where he could not longer drink although valiantly he tried as the water poured down him.

There was finally no water left, and Roy took the glass away. "No longer thirsty?" he asked.

Edward said nothing. The ends of his hair, free from its usual tie, were sopping wet; droplets of water streaked down his damp chest and his chin felt as though he'd just dunked it into a dog's water dish. With each gasp for breath, his constricted shoulders rose and the rope tightened dizzyingly around his neck. He could feel the water slipping past his belly button, down, down... and his body was writhing.

He was suddenly, blindingly, aroused. And he goddamn  _hated_  Roy for it.

"Well, Fullmetal, what do you say?" Roy asked.

Edward licked his lips. He wanted desperately to resist the overwhelming urge to submit. He was nobody's fucking dog - not even the military's - but he did not want the gag to be put back in and he so desperately wanted Roy to _touch him, please, god_  that he bit down on his pride and said, with soft hatred, " _Thank you_."

Roy's finger was hooked around his rope collar. "Thank you...?"

Edward was going to regret what he said next. "You don't need to thank me, _General_ ," he rasped.

Suddenly the gag was being pressed against his mouth again. Edward cried out, struggling so wildly that he fell backwards on the floor, wriggling pathetically against his bonds. He was unable to move at all. " _Fuck you_ , don't you fucking  _dare-"_

"You don't get to tell me what to do, Edward."

"You bastard! I-I wore that for over a fuckin'  _hour_ , don't put it back on-!"

"Perhaps if you _ask_ me not to," Roy said softly, "I will be merciful."

Edward squeezed his eyes shut. He hated Roy. He _hated_ Roy. Hated him. How could he strip Edward down of all his pride and make him  _like_ it?! "Please," said Edward, and his anger was quiet, "don't make me wear it again.  _Sir._ "

There was a hitch in Roy's breath, a stillness that wasn't there before. There was the sound of the chair moving, Roy standing, shifting, and then suddenly hands were ghosting across Edward's skin and Edward wanted to arch up into his hands. "Good," Roy murmured, "That's very good. I told you, Edward, that I wouldn't put the gag back in if you behaved yourself. And what did you do?"

"I-" Roy's hands were gloved now, the ignition cloth harsh against Ed's tight skin. " _Fuck_."

Suddenly those hands were gone and a boot was pressed against Ed's midriff,  _pushing_ , and Edward was spluttering, his head spinning.

"No," said Roy in his most powerful voice, the one that never failed to make Ed needy. "You answer me when I ask you a question, Fullmetal. What did you do?"

"I-I was a bastard," Edward puffed out.

"Yes," said Roy. "And what do we do to those who can't obey?"

Edward's eyes were clenched shut under the blindfold. He wanted to cry out. "N-No, _don't_ ," he said. "I... I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry  _what?"_

Oh God, here Edward was, blindfolded and practically hog-tied, drooling into the floor, a boot mercilessly pressing his naked body into the carpet and yet all he could think of was the dangerous lilt to Roy's voice. His cock was throbbing, weighted against his stomach. "I'm sorry  _General,"_ he said. _  
_

"Again," commanded the General, the heel of his boot digging in to Ed's diaphragm.

It was getting harder to breathe; Edward's blood was moving in a frenzy. "I'm sorry, General," he gasped out.

" _Again_ ," said Roy.

 _"General,"_ said Ed.

Roy's quietly laughed. "Good," he said. His boot lifted. "Very good. Will you behave now?"

Ed panted, nodded, writhed on the floor.

"Prove it to me," demanded Roy.

Oh, Edward _wanted_ to. He hadn't realised how much he wanted Roy to admire him, to think he was good, until that second. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, too: he'd never thought about it before, but when Roy stomped down on his stomach, when Edward felt the leather, the rubber sole, of that boot pressing against his naked skin, he realised more than anything that he wanted to... that he wanted...

"I want..." he whispered, but he didn't have the strength to finish.

Roy's fingers were at his chin, slowly trailing up his face, stroking through his hair. "What do you want to do for me, Edward?" he asked. His voice was so level, so patient, so in control...

It hurt. God, it hurt, Roy was too fucking good at this - too fucking good - and Edward was so needy and embarrassed and _God_ , he hated how much control Roy had over him. "I want to- I want to lick your boots," he gasped out. His tongue was like a dead weight in his mouth; lying helpless on the floor as he was, he knew Roy could see that his shoulders, his chest, his back and his ears were flushing with embarrassment - and, albeit, arousal. "I want to. Please."

A ragged inhale, and then suddenly Roy's fingers were untying the blindfold. "I'll allow it," he said coldly. "Don't disappoint me. You'll do a better job with this off."

Light returned; Edward winced, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim, candlelit office. He was hoisted on to his stomach by Roy, who then sat back in his chair and kicked his feet out in front of Ed. Edward had to struggle forward across the floor until the boots were directly underneath his mouth and,  _fuck_ , just looking at them made Ed's mouth water and his stomach do impossible twists. A glance up at Roy, and he saw that Roy's cold, unflinching gaze was fixed directly on his mouth, and Edward moaned at the sight, his entire body undulating.  _Yes_ , this was good, he was starting to feel light-headed, away from his own mind, disconnected almost. His arms tingling, his cock throbbing, he leaned in and took a deep breath before his tongue lapped out and licked the tip of the boot where the leather met the sole.

It was better than he thought. So good, so soft, pliable, thick. He was so fucked up, he distantly thought, as his tongue lapped out another clean line of saliva and the scent of polish and leather dissolved his mind. His breath came harder; he licked and licked and licked, across the boot, around the boot, curving as the leather did. A lace got caught in his mouth and he sucked on it gently before spitting it out; he was whimpering and he hadn't even realised it; he was coming out with these soft moans and pants and  _fuck._

He was desperate. His hips were twitching. His fingers ached to touch.

Roy was still staring, smirking now, his gaze hotter than before.

Edward almost begged for it.

"The other one, Fullmetal," commanded Roy, and Edward leant over to lick his left boot clean, too. He enjoyed doing it just as much, relished it, but he was driven so distracted by- by Roy and his cock and- and _fricking fuck fuck fuck_ that he did not do a good job, just licked at the boot again and again and Roy - oh god, General Mustang...

He tugged on Ed's hair so suddenly Edward gasped and jerked up on to his knees, and then Roy clicked and fire burned the ropes away and Roy was tugging Edward forward and Edward barely even knew what was going _on_ , but then suddenly he was facing the floor, lying straight now that he was no longer restrained, across Roy's lap and Roy's hand collided with his buttocks like an explosion. Edward cried out, his body propelled forward, his entire body flushing. The next slap came just as hard, just as fast, just as  _fucking_ _fantastic_ , and while Edward mourned the loss of the ropes against his tight skin and the sweet friction burns when he moved, the spanking more than made up for it. Roy's hand was steady and his strike was deadly; he counted each slap just before it came - "Six," he said, and chuckled hotly when Edward tensed in preparation - and made sure that each spank targeted an untouched patch of skin. By the tenth slap, Edward's skin was red and aching and he was panting, wriggling, his heart beating maniacally in his chest and his breaths shuddering out of his lungs. His eyes were watering, his lips were trembling, and he could no longer feel his legs.

When he tried to speak, he couldn't; each slap shocked him farther away from his body and soon he was floating in blissful nothingness, feeling the sensations but not able to properly respond. His arms tingled and his head was clouded with arousal as the power of submission caught him in its web and he was but a tool for Roy to use and manipulate. He felt it when Roy jostled him into a new position, he felt the pleasure when Roy made Edward suck on his fingers, when Roy prepped him, when Roy fucked him but his orgasm was almost like an afterthought - a wonderful, startling,  _delicious_ afterthought - when compared to this complete state of euphoria that Roy's dominance often pushed Edward into.

Roy hoisted him up, carried him up the stairs. Edward was still adrift but his head was tucked nicely under Roy's chin and he made a small sound of contentment, unable to move (not that he would if he could). He felt the coolness of a flannel cleaning him of sweat and come, felt Roy tucking him under the covers and climbing in next to him still fully dressed, felt the kiss Roy pressed to his temple... but he could not reciprocate. Could not even agree with Roy, who began murmuring gentle admirations into his ear.

When Edward properly returned to his body, he was still there, cuddled up with Roy. His blood was thick and warm, buzzed with pleasure, and when he looked up at Roy his smile was slow. "Roy," he slurred, "you okay?"

Roy chuckled softly. He caught the hand Edward had lifted clumsily to touch Roy's face and kissed the palm; Edward blushed up to his ears. "It's nice to have you back, Edward," Roy said. "I'm very well. How are you feeling?"

Edward hummed happily, turning his face in towards Roy's chest, his heart made wonderfully light by the soft, loving smile Roy wore. "I'm great," he murmured. "You were fuckin...  _fuck_ , Roy..."

Another laugh, and Roy's hand stroked through Edward's hair. "I aim to please," he said. "I did all that you specified - and you were  _wonderful_ , Edward. You did so well..."

Edward smiled against Roy's chest. "'Course I did," he muttered. "Now get undressed. Sleep. M'tired."

"You're beautiful," said Roy, and the next five minutes were spent with Roy pretending he didn't see how Edward preened with pleasure, and Edward trying in vain to convince himself he wasn't inexorably, fervently, madly in love.

**Author's Note:**

> (I seriously can't believe I wrote this.)
> 
> Wasn't sure how to end this but I hoped you enjoyed it! Ada, please don't mention this ever again.


End file.
